Outlet
by StrictlySomething
Summary: Kidnapping Rogue's not working out, and Magneto struggles to find an alternative means of powering the machine that will lead them into the new world order. Enter Tony Stark; playboy, genius, billionaire, and the new face in energy production. In which Tony gets kidnapped again, SHIELD freaks out, and chaos ensues. Eventual Avengers w/Wolverine! Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. **

**Warning: Profanity via Tony Stark. It's unavoidable. **

**Prologue**

"Excuse me, Mr. Stark, do you have a moment?" A crisp female voice called out from amidst the flashing lights.

Tony glanced over, and caught sight of the voice's cute face behind her black rimmed glasses and most importantly, the rather large assets tucked into the woman's shirt. He pasted a smile onto his face, "Make it quick, sweetheart."

A microphone was shoved in his face with incredible zeal, and he took a step back on reflex. Her voice grew sharp as she spoke, "What's your stance in the current debate on the Mutant Registration Act that's being discussed in congress?"

Why was it that the cute ones always had an agenda? Tony rolled his eyes, wearing a large pair of sunglasses for that very purpose. And to help hide the hangover. "I think you're at the wrong press conference, honey."

There were a few laughs from some of the other reporters crunched together in the small anteroom, no doubt attempting to build some sort of camaraderie with him. As if he'd be more willing to answer any of their questions better if they laughed at his jokes. Well. . . he probably would.

Aside from a light frown, his dismissal didn't faze her, "This is a rising issue in our nation. I think the people have a right to know what leading figures such as you think about it."

He brazenly waved a arm, "I don't do politics, Miss—"

"MacTaggert," she said shortly, not in any way deterred, _reporters_, "But isn't it true that your arms contract with the United States military includes research and development into anti-mutant weaponry?"

Blindsided by the question, he stopped inching towards the door, and tilted his head down to look at the reporter over his sunglasses. Tony was pretty sure that _that _kind of information had been classified. Classified, and not even something he'd ever dabbled with personally. He had always let Obie handle the biological kinds of warfare, hiring most of the people in the department, and having all the weaponry passing through on his say-so.

Tony pursed his lips at the thought. He'd to need to take a look at the particulars of that research. Knowing Obadiah, he'd cooked up something particularly nasty and then sold it off to North Korea. "Perhaps you've missed the last month, Miss. Stark Industries doesn't do weapons anymore, of any kind."

She was not to be deterred, "And does your dropping of the contract have anything to do with your stance on mutants? Don't you agree that the development of weapons against mutants underscores any attempts at peaceful negotiations with them? And that that, along with legislation such as the MRA, creates a national standard of fear?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Tony asked, somewhat amused and walking the line on irritated.

"I just want to know whether or not an important businessman and self-proclaimed hero will take a stand against the anti-mutant bigotry that has been the face of our country for some time."

_Snarky, _Tony thought idly. The other reporters had long since stopped their own struggles to claim his attention, raising their mics in earnest to record his answer.

How did Tony always land himself in these kinds of situations anyways? Weren't there other annoying billionaires this woman could bother? It's not like he was the only one floating around out there. Norman Osborne, Sebastian Shaw, hello? Anyone? Not the man that had just spent three months in a cave, followed by an attempted murder by his old mentor/father-figure/friend, and maybe going through a little bit of a mid-life crisis on the side.

Someone coughed not-so-politely from the back of the crowd.

Tony sighed. He really needed another drink.

"I'm not sure what you're aiming for here," he began tiredly, rooting around in his brain in an attempt to form his thoughts around the growing migraine. "If you want to demonize me, go ahead. But I can tell you that Stark Industries no longer produces weapons, nor does it associate itself with the American military in _any _capacity. The reason _why_ was released in the public statement I made around a month ago.

If you want my opinion about it personally, off the record, and not to be used as some campaign slogan? Sure." he shrugged, "I'd say the Mutant Registration Act sounds like a dreadful manipulation of the system, and yeah it'll institute a heavier level of social control, which is something that I have obviously _never _been comfortable with.

But if you're looking for some kind of political liberation, or some sort of spokesperson," Tony gestured lazily with a hand, "_whatever_, I'd say it's pretty obvious that you need to look elsewhere. I was gone for more than three months, Ms. MacTaggert. And I've been back, what, a month and a half now? In all that time, I think it's apparent that my focus has been _limited _to a number of select things, mutant legislation not being one of them. I'm not looking to form a political agenda, and when it comes to social activism I'm probably the last person you want on your side anyways. I mean, have you seen me?" Laughter broke out unevenly amongst the reporters, and Tony gave the ingratiating smile that sold his case.

He felt a pointed glare from one of the directors on the Board, and Tony cleared his throat, "Now," he added, keeping the smile pasted on as he remembered this was a PR attempt, "back to the point. I don't need to remind you why we're all here today, ladies and gentlemen." _But I will anyway, since you can't seem to remain on point,_ _"_Clean, reliable, _alternative _energy. Let's try to keep the questions to about how freaking _awesome _that is, 'kay?"

* * *

A giant man stormed through the darkened corridors of the complex, pausing when he reached a larger chamber. Already there was a lithe younger figure with a strange green pigment, crouched down over some rusty metal with goggles covering his face as he welded two pieces together. He stopped when the giant blonde walked in, tilting his head minutely, "Weren't you supposed to bring someone back with you?"

The giant snarled, and Toad viciously grinned, showing an arrangement of slowly rotting teeth. Huffing in a catlike fashion with clenching and unclenching fists, the giant walked passed his snide colleague. He hesitated for only a moment before he entered through a doorway.

The room he walked into was bare, except for a few utilitarian pieces of furniture. A desk, which held a metal pendulum of six steel balls striking each other in a steady rhythm with no apparent outside influence, and an empty chair. A muted TV was running on the opposing wall, showing a press conference of some sort; a man with short styled brown hair in dark shades and an expensive suit taking up most of the screen.

And another man was standing behind the desk. This one was tall, with graying hair and quicksilver eyes. There was a disturbingly cold presence about him that only got colder as he turned to study the blonde with an unreadable expression.

"What happened?" His question came out softly, in an educated British accent that bore a surprising sharpness.

Sabretooth huffed again, "They knew."

A small amount of frustration flitted across the elder man's face, and he drawled, "Charles."

His old friend had been in Magneto's head again. He'd discovered enough to undoubtedly complicate things. If the girl was in the protection of the so-called X-men she would be a lot more . . . inconvenient to gain access to. That meddlesome fool was always getting in his way.

He turned sharply in thought, his eyes catching sight of the TV. Bullet points on the bottom of the news channel read: "STARK INDUSTRIES EXPANDS UPON NEW SOURCE OF ALTERNATIVE ENERGY."

He stilled, his frown deepening, and he used the remote on his desk to un-muting the device's volume.

"—_It's just in a prototype stage," the infamous Tony Stark continued, "First one that goes up will power a building, and a massive one at that, for a year. But once we're done with this baby, I plan to be working on a city-wide scale. Think this: No emissions, no massive land requirements, portable if necessary, and best of all, completely self-sustaining once up and running."_

"_What is this alternative source, Mr. Stark? Does it have anything to do with the large reactor that has been on Stark property since the seventies? The one that was destroyed just two weeks ago?"_

_The man smiled again, only this time the gesture seemed a lot more brittle, "Think smaller, a lot smaller."_

"_Many people –"_

_Tony Stark leaned forward. "That's all for now, I think," he bit off abruptly as he offerred another tight smile. "The rest is for me to know, and for you to try your damndest to find out." He raised a hand in farewell at his closing statement, "First building test goes up in January, be checking New York."_

_Stark stepped away from the line of reporters, and another man stepped forward, "Mr. Stark will be taking no more questions at this time. If you have any more questions, please direct them to—"_

Magneto's frown faded, and slowly a smile took its place.

Tony Stark, the proclaimed _Iron Man_. A human genius, and perhaps just what he needed. He allowed himself to chuckle. Charles wouldn't be able to jump on something Magneto hadn't fully decided on until just now.

"I have made the first move. That is all they know. And now, Charles will be adequately distracted. We have a slight change of plans, Sabretooth. We are going to Los Angeles," His grin widened, his mind whirling as it calculated out the necessary change in actions they'd need to take. "But first, we have a little test to perform. Come."

A helicopter was flying out over the water. Inside was the well-known Senator, Robert Kelly, who looked out at the ocean in confusion.

"Where the hell are we?"

The man sitting next to him blinked, and suddenly his body was changing, shifting. Eyes glowing yellow, brown hair shifting to red, clothes fading away to reveal scaly blue skin, and the woman underneath.

The senator yelled out in shock, and made a move for the door, only to be stopped by the woman's feet.

She balanced on her hands, leering at him hatefully, "You know, people like you are the reason I was afraid to go to school as a child."

She raised her foot again, smacking his face back and forth, until he collapsed unconscious.

She stood up slowly, stepping over him, and taking a seat next to the pilot. A familiar mutant named Toad.

The green man glanced over at her with a leer, "Boss wants me to let you know there's a change of plans. We're going to California."

**O-o-o-O**

**Chapter One**

**Two Days Later**

So maybe his drinking had become a little excessive, Tony admitted numbly when he woke up with a hangover the size of Miami to a particularly hard patch of floor.

"-hgawd," he moaned into the unsympathetic surface. Rolling onto his back, he opened his eyes, wincing as the light seemed to pierce through his skull. It took him a few blaring blinks to recognize his lab's ceiling.

"-ngh, Jarvis," he whispered, "wha' time is it?"

"9:34 am, Sir. You have been asleep for approximately four hours and twenty minutes."

Tony raised he head, attempted to sit up, and then decided it wasn't worth it. He set his head back down on the concrete, raising an arm to cover his eyes.

He hadn't felt this shitty since the day after his fourteenth birthday. Mmm, make that his twenty-fourth.

"Get Obie on the phone, wouldya?" he groaned.

". . . Sir," Jarvis began, and Tony felt his heart drop as his thoughts arranged themselves a little more.

"Ah fuck, right. Cancel that."

"I could connect to Ms. Potts, Sir?" Jarvis offered.

"No," Lowering his right arm to his chest, Tony settled a hand against the cold metal of the arc reactor and allowed himself a heavy sigh (with a definite groaning quality), "Don't worry 'bout it, Jarvis."

Sharp pain lanced through his skull again, and he flicked his other hand in a vague motion, "Shut 'ff the lights, though."

"Sir, I recommend against staying on the floor. Your core body temperature decrea—"

This conversation was not helping his headache at all.

"_Please _just let me die in peace, Jarvis. I didn't program you to mollycoddle."

"There is a loveseat approximately ten feet behind you, Sir," the passive aggressive machine encouraged.

Tony sighed again, recognizing the lost battle for what it was. Breathing in deeply through his nose, he forcefully heaved himself off the ground. Blood rushed to his skull in a pounding wave and his stomach churned incessantly, his steps listing sideways. He raised a hand to his head.

"Christ, how much'd I drink last night?"

"Would you like me to produce a list for you, Sir?"

"Ha ha," Tony muttered. The edge of the couch brushed against his leg, and he crashed into it without an ounce of dignity. Toppling inwards, he let his face sink into the leather that smelled faintly of oil and . . . . _Oreos_.

"Have Dummy bring me some aspirin," he said faintly, after he had regained his shaky internal equilibrium, "and whatever's left of the Macallan."

"You drank the last of the Macallan, Sir. And do you believe now is the best time to be drinking?"

"Mmgh," he affirmed into the couch, letting an arm flop around in a short, torturous gesture as he explained to the AI, "Best way to get rid of a hangover."

"I would not recommend it, Sir. Your alcohol intake has been alarmingly high since—"

"Whatever," Tony'd attempt more sass whenever he didn't feel like his head was going to crack in half, "Water, then."

"Of course, Sir. And Sir, to remind you, there is a meeting concerning the reopening of the Stark Expo occurring this afternoon at 12:30. As this was your idea, of which both Ms. Potts and the board have attested against on several occasions, I recommend you attend to ensure that it is not dismissed entirely."

"Mmurhg…"

"I've arranged for Mr. Hogan to pick you up at eleven, Sir."

". . . I've created a monster."

"You flatter me, Sir."

A few hours later, despite his avid protests, he sat in the back of the car with a somewhat happy Happy driving upfront. A faint throbbing pressed against his head which Tony did his best to ignore as he shifted the glass in his right hand against his forehead with a small wince.

They were entering L.A. when Happy suddenly slowed. Tony peered out the window with distaste, noting the man flagging them down. Said man opened the side door on the right.

"Agent Coulson," Tony said dryly, sipping on his bourbon as the man slid into the passenger seat next to him, "I'd say it's a pleasure to see you again, but—"

Despite the unwelcome third party, Happy started driving. Tony narrowed his eyes in speculation at the traitorous behavior but Happy only glanced at him in all innocence from the review mirror.

"A shared sentiment," Coulson said dryly, pulling out his briefcase and Tony from his thoughts, "I have some paperwork for you to look over and sign, Mr. Stark."

"Paperwork?" Tony repeated flatly, "Give it to Pepper."

Finishing off the last of his glass, he shifted himself, opening up the mini-fridge at his feet and pulling a bottle out at random.

"This is classified. We'd prefer if you read it personally," Coulson continued.

"Isn't it always?"Adding a few more cubes of ice to his glass and topping it off, Tony sighed again, "I thought I already told you people. Consider Pepper an extension of me. My other half. My better, responsible, caring, paper-work doing half. Besides, you know I'll tell her anything you tell me anyways," he added mutinously.

"Out of spite, no doubt," Coulson said emotionlessly.

"Now you get me," Tony agreed, taking a generous sip and leaning back to close his eyes.

"Happy, drop Coulson off at the next Donut-O, he looks like he could use a few," he added as an afterthought, not really wanting the SHEILD agent bugging him right now. The migraine that had been with him for the past week was company enough.

"Mr. Stark," Coulson sighed wearily, and Tony nearly felt a small twinge of something for the guy. He could only imagine the kind of misery it was to be stuck with Coulson's kind of job, dealing with Tony's kind of people. "All of this would be much easier for the both of us if you just followed a few basic protocols. As it is, I feel the need to tell you that your current attitude leaves much to be desired."

"Get in line, buddy."

The ice clinked in his glass as he took another sip, a nice numbness was settling around the edges of his thoughts. Finally, he was getting somewhere. He sighed, and sank further into his seat.

The car pulled to a stop, and when nothing happened he pried an eye open. Coulson was looking at him with that damned bare expression, phone in one hand, files in the other.

"This is your cue," Tony ruthlessly reminded him, and gestured to the door before pointedly closing his eyes again.

There was a shuffle of movement before the door opened, and a light breeze filled the car, "Until next time, Mr. Stark," Coulson said calmly.

"Can't wait," Tony snipped as the door shut with a little extra force.

As the car pulled away, he glanced over to the empty passenger seat and the file Coulson had purposefully left behind. A few minutes later, he glanced at it again in thought.

Huffing in a mock annoyance, Tony reached over and grabbed it. He opened it, scanning the information quickly.

And then Happy slammed into something with enough force to send him careening forward, the glass of scotch in his hand shattering as it hit the protective backing between him and Happy, the file flying past that.

He managed a simple, "_Fuck_," before they were suddenly spinning sideways, Tony hitting the other door with enough force to remind him why seat belts were such a good idea. And then there was a stomach churning twist of movement that slammed him forward once more as they came to a sudden forceful halt that left Tony collapsed in a pile at the foot of the backseat.

Head ringing, it took him a moment to collect his thoughts and inhale enough air to release a painful groan. Tony shook his head and raised a hand to assess the damage, feeling a familiar warm liquid beginning to ooze through his scalp.

"Shit," Tony grumbled to himself, "Happy, you okay?"

He raised his head, ignoring the shooting pain that shot down his spine and saw that the driver was unconscious, pressed up against a deflating airbag.

And suddenly the car was moving again, screeching its way forward. Not with the force of being hit by another fast moving object, but as if it was being _pulled_.

"Fuck," he grinded out again as he forced himself to sit up against a disorienting wave of dizziness.

His suit was at home, in the lab. The mobile design of the Mark II (or the suitcase model, as Pepper had taken to calling it) was still in the works, and he'd never regretted blowing off a meeting to finish it more. Still, that didn't mean he had left home completely defenseless. He leaned over and pried at the safe positioned by the mini-fridge with fumbling fingers. Opening it, he pulled out a slightly modified Stark Glock 19, gripping it tightly.

The passenger door opposite to him was ripped off its hinges, and by a fucking mammoth of all things. He did a double take. This guy was like Matt Hughes times two. Chuck Liddell on steroids. (And why was he thinking in UFC metaphors, he _hated _the UFC with somewhat of an apathetic passion). The guy had long blonde hair, like a Viking or a Disney princess. And to top it off, Tony realized as he got a good look at the hands gripping the crumpled door, this guy had _claws_. _Claws _Tony emphasized numbly in his head.

He swallowed drily at the thought, and after a moment of hesitation (_giantclawshugewha—stopthinkingdosomething) _hefired off two shots directly into the guy's chest.

The behemoth stumbled back, dropping the door. He blinked, one hand going to his chest, and then looked up and _snarled_, showing off a nice set of razor-sharp fangs.

_It's like Rapunzel, meets Red Riding Hood, meets Rocky II,_ Tony thought faintly. _Meets the end of Terminator, _he threw in as an afterthought, deciding that that adequately set the mood for the moment.

The tumultuous turn of his thoughts was giving credence to his theory that he might have a concussion, he added as a side note. That, or he'd been drinking a little too much again. Another reason to cut down on his excess after this shit storm was over. Tony reminded himself to keep moving and fumbled behind him with one hand, clasping for the door handle and praying that it would open.

Mammoth-man was moving forward, as if he hadn't already been shot two times – point blank – in the chest. He reached in with one clawed hand that would undoubtedly tear Tony to shreds given the chance. Tony uttered a final expletive and heaved his body forcibly back, throwing his weight into the door behind him. The door slammed open against the weight and he found himself scurrying out onto the asphalt in a fit of limbs.

Tony stumbled to his feet in a wave of dizziness as his vision fogged dangerously for a moment at the sudden motion. He clutched one hand to the side of his head to stop the see-sawing inward motion, and the other tightened in a focused grip around the gun, as he pitched forward out onto the road.

_Christ. _

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in a breath through his nose and trying not to puke all over his shoes, before snapping them open again to calculate his surroundings. His eyes darted across the road, taking in the entire scene.

Mammath-man stood on the other side of the smashed Happy-bearing car, taking a moment to snarl again in Tony's direction. There were several overturned cars around him, and distantly he could hear people slamming on their brakes to avoid the sudden chaos. Coulson had to be out there somewhere. Or rather, Tony desperately hoped he was; they'd dropped him close by. Surely he was hearing the commotion. And hopefully he was forgiving enough to assemble a S.H.I.E.L.D. powwow, or call the police . . . or the neighborhood watch. Tony attempted for a moment to calculate the distance of the agent out in his head but the fuzziness got in the way.

A figure suddenly jumped onto one of the tilted cars nearest to him, drawing Tony's attention. He blinked, and digested the fact that the man was green.

_Really?_

Hopefully bullets would have more of an effect on him, Tony thought grimly, pulling his arm up to aim and fire. The man's mouth opened, and without warning a warm, slimy, _tongue _had wrapped itself around the weapon, which shot off into the empty air as it was yanked out of Tony's hands and back to the tongue's green owner.

Tony blinked, looking from his now slime riddled hand and back to the smug looking frog man standing before him, "That's- that's just not right," he said slowly, mentally trying to grasp what had just happened. "Your, your tongue just—"

An impossibly large hand grabbed him by his shoulder, reminding him briefly to be wary of Mammoth-man, before he was thrown forward, hitting the car before him with a disconcerting thud.

The impact didn't seem quite as bad as sliding down to the ground after, Tony thought through a haze of pain. He coughed, wheezing "This shit is _not _cool," as he tried to push himself up with a hand, the other braced against the arc-reactor in his chest. His heart was taking a moment to have a little bit of a freak out, racing frantically against his chest.

Frog man dropped down next to him, his old sneakers entering Tony's field of vision, and he eyed them with distaste, "What are those, from the 80's?" He said it partially in stupidity, he'd admit, because he really didn't know when to quit, but mostly because let's be honest, those shoes were crap.

Frog man snarled, reaching forward to grab his neck. Using the distraction, Tony shot forward with one hand, snatching the gun back from the loosened grip of frog man's other hand, trying to not remember where it had been, and pushed himself back to aim, and shoo—

He cried out in pain as a clawed hand clamped down on the arm, tightening ruthlessly.

_Two on one isn't fair,_ he grumbled to himself.

The gun clattered from his loosened fingers, but the giant's grip continued to tighten and twist and he had to clamp his mouth shut and bight his cheek to keep from screaming at the pain, breaking into a cold sweat as his bones creaked, his tendons ripped. The man was going to rip Tony's arm off, right off his body. _It hurts, it hurts—_ A bone snapped with the pressure, _(the ulna, his brain supplied), _followed by another (_radius)_ and he broke off in a strangled cry as a shock of white hot unbearable pain shot through him.

"Sabretooth," a disapproving voice intoned, breaking through the terror filled moment.

Tony heard Mammoth-man huff through his wave of pain, and then felt the iron grip release his mangled arm. He bit back his moan of relief and brought it back to his chest, cradling it gently with his other hand. Blood rushed back through it, pins and needles flaring sharply. He'd have to thank the shock for allowing him to bypass most of the pain for the moment. But it was going to be a bitch to deal with later.

_Fuck, this shit is so not cool, _he found himself thinking again.

"I apologize for that, Mr. Stark. My associate is not known for controlling his temper," the voice, British and cultured, intoned in sympathy bringing his thoughts back to his attackers.

Tony breathed through his nose, forcing himself to raise his head and look at the new speaker. The man was tall, and older than he'd expect for a kidnapper out in the field, with heavily graying hair and a face lined with deep wrinkles. And then there was the fact that he was wearing a cape, and a helmet. Something Tony wasn't sure he should take verbal advantage of quite yet. He eyed the cape warily, gritting out a response, "Yeah, well, perhaps you should work on that before you send him out to collect people," he bit out through gritted teeth hoarsely.

The man smiled, "Indeed," before he looked back to his minions, "Sabretooth, we're about to have guests. You know what to do." _Coulson_, Tony identified hopefully as Mammoth-man growled in the affirmative, before lumbering off.

If SHIELD was arriving, then it was only a matter of time before he got out of this. He just had to focus on not dying in the meantime. And if they weren't killing him immediately, well, that gave Tony a little hope that he could succeed.

Frog man bent down and grabbed him by the shoulder, his good shoulder thankfully, pulling him from the racing thought and heaving him to his feet at a speed that had Tony's head spinning.

No. His body did not like being thrown around very much.

"Easy," he gasped, "I would hate to puke on you. It'd cramp your style, and clash with your _face_."

He was pushed forward, to stand directly before the obvious leader, who observed him with a tilted head.

"Curious," the man muttered, "I sense. . ."

Capeman leaned forward and reached out with one hand, brushing his fingers across the hidden arc reactor in Tony's chest reverently. For a surreal moment, Tony felt the chest-piece hum slightly in response, before his own reaction caught up to him and he jerked back on reflex.

"Remarkable," the man murmured, gazing intensely at Tony's chest, "Quite remarkable."

Not knowing how the man knew the reactor was there, but equally aware that he did, Tony attempted the obvious bluff. "It's nothing," he said shortly, his heart pounding erratically, "A battery, that's all. It won't last the week. If that's what you came for, sucks for you."

The man had the gall to laugh at his bold-faced lie, to chuckle in a deep amusement, "Don't underestimate your creation, Mr. Stark. I can _feel _its power from here. Which makes this a most fortunate turn of events, I must say," he continued, still slightly amused.

Tony swallowed again, keeping his head raised, trying to buy time. He was beginning to feel a little out of his depth here. _C'mon Coulson,_ "What do you want?"

"I require a sustainable energy source of great magnitude, Mr. Stark. I had of course, had plans of _convincing _you to give up your new energy source to us after I had captured you. But I had never suspected that you'd have the audacity to actually implant the material into your chest." The man sounded slightly in awe at his fortune, "How marvelous, this will make things so much simpler."

A roar in the distance from the giant named Sabretooth drew the man from his thoughts, and Capeman jerked his eyes away from Tony's chest. He was all business once again, his eyes hardening perceptibly, "We'll continue this conversation at a later time Mr. Stark. Toad, bring him to her. I'll inform Quicksilver that we're ready."

He was pushed forward by Toad (Toad? _Really? _Sabretooth was okay, it sounded manly and cool and Tony could handle that. But Toad?_), _who led him further away from the street. Tony calculated the force necessary to incapacitate him and escape without inciting the wrath of said frog man's _tongue_. He did not want to get on the wrong side of _that_.

Before he could decide, there was a dreadful screech of metal and an animalistic roar, with the screams of a few bystanders intermingling that jerked his gaze towards the street. _Happy _was out there, and other unarmed civilians who had no ways of defending themselves.

In response to his halting movement, frog man knocked him aside his head, sparks of light erupting through his vision at the painful motion, and shoved him through the doorway of a local diner that played a light jingle at their entrance. It was notably empty except for a blaringly naked blue woman sitting at the counter.

It would have been alarming if he wasn't beginning to lose the shock factor that came with meeting these guys.

"Mystique," frog man croaked, _ha ha, croaked_, Tony grinned faintly at the thought, "you're up."

Mystique stood up as sensuously as possible, which Tony admired greatly as she turned towards them. He swallowed heavily at the eye full he got as she walked forward. "I'm not going to lie; this might've been a dream I had once."

Frog man let out a laugh which had Tony reassessing him.

"A sense of humor's good," Tony informed him, "That'll be a good coping mechanism once the hard time kicks in."

Frog man stopped laughing, and Tony sighed, and winced. Trying to put his throbbing arm, overwhelming nausea, and the general sense of _holy shit, I'm so screwed _out of his mind wasn't working very well. It was ruining his normally _awesome_ one-liners. He sulked at the thought.

The woman walked to stand directly before him, studying him critically. Her hand reached up to touch his face, her fingers sliding down his chin and neck, before resting on his shirt. Lifting up her other hand, she began to undo the buttons.

And if he wasn't beaten to hell, he'd probably be enjoying this moment a lot more than he actually was.

"Uhm, I know I'm pretty amazing eye candy," Tony said wearily, and warily, "and I'm not really complaining here, but is this really the time?"

Instead of responding, she continued to undo the next button and his eyes widened fractionally when she reached the glow of the arc reactor. He really should have realized that was her focus, considering Cape-man's reaction. Shit, his thought processes really were out of wack.

And a torrent of familiar fear was beginning to stir.

_Obie kneeling over him, yanking the glowing life-source out of his chest. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, his heart was stuttering. He was going to die here, on this stupid uncomfortable incredibly expensive couch, while his mentor destroyed everything he'd ever managed to care for. He was going to die as his heart choked on its own blood, with a gaping hole in his chest, and a heavy numbing coldness that was beginning to steep into his body. _

_No. Not that, _he felt himself panic. As Mystique reached to touch it he jerked backwards, and yanked his uninjured arm out of frog mans lax grip.

Tony had to get out of this. He could feel his panic rising, and he panted through clenched teeth.

He'd figure something out, something—

He stumbled back, thinking quickly, and ended up grabbing a metal paper towel rack on the counter beside him. Not much, but still better than—

A quick-flash movement flashed from the corner of his eye, and suddenly the towel rack was wrapped in tongue_._ "_Jesus!" _he yelped in shock as it was yanked out of his grasp.

Tony tried not to think about it too much, grabbing a tray in defense just as a blue foot flew up to kick his side. The plastic tray broke pathetically in half, and the foot shot out again in a full body spin, giving Tony the time to think about the fact that apparently_ this blue chick was a ninja_, before he hit the wall beside him with a solid crack to his head. He felt his body sliding bonelessly down to the floor.

That solved the question of what to do now, he mused. He couldn't even bother himself to move. His heart was beating frantically again. Excess adrenaline flitted through his system as his thoughts raced past his feeble control and his memories slid into the present.

_Pain was flooding his senses, and his head fell back into the sand. The desert sun burned his retinas, and he could feel his heart beating sluggishly trying to keep up with his failing body. A warm wetness was spreading across his useless Kevlar. Gunshots, explosions, dust, and the blaring sun all flitted in and out of his senses._

His consciousness was bleeding out of his skull like blood, and he could only blink faintly as he looked up at his attacker. He watched in confusion as her blue skin morphed into a black suit, her hair darkened and a beard formed on her face, until she became a he, and that he was suddenly smiling down at Tony with an impossibly familiar face. His own.

There was a last internal plea for Coulson, or Rhodey_, anyone _to come rescue his ass, followed by a sinking despair that none of that was going to happen before the darkness took over.

**To be continued.**

**AN: For those of you who know me, and are undoubtedly gnashing your teeth at the fact that I've started another something and am not currently finishing my other fics, I apologize. I can't control myself. It's a problem. And seriously this just **_**gushed **_**out. It's disgusting.**

**I got to thinking on how it would be possible for the different worlds of Marvel to meld together, and this came up. Takes place immediately after the first Ironman, and during the first X-men. This is all planned out, and the next few chapters ARE already written, so the good news is that updates will be systematic for a time at least. Definitely consider it to be AU just to be safe, I don't want squabbles over timelines, or whatnot. And some elements and characters from the comics will be used. So yeah. Free cyber cookies to those that catch them.**

**This is my first stab at anything relatively superhero-esque, or linked specifically to Marvel, so break it to me gently if there are any blaring flaws, or even minutely noticeable ones. I'm fragile. **

'**Till next time,**

**StrictlySomething**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.**

**Warning: Will continuously include strong language **_**à la **_**Tony Stark and Wolverine.**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter Two**

Coulson stepped into the diner with his weapon drawn, eyes searching the place warily before landing on a target crouched next to a familiar collapsed figure by south wall.

"Don't move! Put your hands up in the air!" he barked, training his weapon on the male target. The figure straightened, hands twitching into the air sporadically.

"Turn to face me slowly," Coulson ordered.

He turned, revealing a young man - he estimated him to be in his early twenties - with a slouched stature and pallid green skin. _Mutant _he identified instantly. Not surprising, considered the giant man that several shield officers were currently engaging outside.

"Oops," the man giggled, "Caught me."

"Think about moving, and I'll put a bullet between your eyes," he promised flatly. Keeping his gun and eyes trained on the figure, Coulson pulled up his radio, "Hostile and target acquired in Nick's Diner on the South Mall. Backup requested."

"Understood, Agent Coulson. A unit is being sent to your location. What's the status of the target?"

"Stark," Coulson barked once, and the collapsed figure groaned in response. He allowed himself a brief moment of relief before he answered, "Alive, possibly injured."

The green man giggled again.

"Identify yourself," Coulson ordered, "Who do you work for?"

The hostile only grinned, licking his lips.

When the unit burst through the door, Coulson nodded, "Bag and tag him," before returning his focus to Stark and walking forward quickly. He holstered his weapon, and knelt down next to the collapsed man. The billionaire looked like he had been thrown around more than a little. Coulson's hand automatically went to the neck to check the man's pulse. Erratic and slow.

"Stark," he called, looking for any contusions on the billionaire's head and finding a sizeable one on the temporal lobe, "Can you hear me."

His next move was to check the man's chest, and he was reassured by the light blue light being emitted from the arc reactor.

"Stark," he attempted again, carefully examining the rest of the man. Except for a sizeable gash to his head, he only saw small contusions and minimum blood loss. There was a heavy, nasty swelling in Stark's right arm. It was probably broken, "C'mon Stark."

The man groaned again, his eyes flitting open, taking a moment to focus on him. His mouth moved, and he creaked, "Whas 'appening?"

"You were attacked, Mr. Stark. What do you remember?"

Stark blinked slowly, "Car crashed."

Coulson refrained from frowning more than he already was. Stark's responses were slow, and simple. The man didn't exhibit the physical signs of anything more than a possible concussion, and a broken arm.

"Did they inject you with anything?" Coulson asked sharply, studying the man's pupils, which seemed normal.

Stark raised a hand to his head, shaking it slowly.

"Ugh—no. I don't know."

He heard a gurney being pulled in, and glanced back to see a pair of paramedics entering the room quickly.

He patted the man's knee in an attempt at comfort, "We're going to get you checked out."

The billionaire just nodded with his face buried in his hands. This was perhaps the first time Coulson had seen the man consciously not have something to say. Pleasant, yet equally disturbing.

The paramedics knelt down beside him, and Coulson moved out of the way to give them space.

"Mr. Stark? We're going to lift you—"

His cell-phone vibrated in his pocket, and he answered it immediately.

"Coulson," barked the familiar voice of Commander Fury, "Report."

He took one last glance at Stark, who was settling down onto the gurney and blinking lethargically, before stepping outside.

"Two hostiles apprehended, Sir. They are mutants. We're running through our database to identify their associations. One has super-strength and rapid healing; the other . . . bears a green pigment, but otherwise his abilities are unknown. They attacked Stark's car on the highway, using other vehicles to create a series of roadblocks. Stark put up a fight, but to what extent we're still working out more of the details. Once they had him apprehended, it appears that the one with super-strength provided for a distraction to allow the other to get away. I uncovered him with Stark in a diner a few hundred feet away."

"And Stark's status?"

"Mild injuries. Otherwise. . . confused sir, perhaps in shock. I'll have medical run toxicology just to be safe."

Fury grunted on the other side of the line. "They throw part of L.A. into chaos, have Tony the genius weapons-manufacturer arc-creator _Stark_ in their grasp, and they sit him down in a nearby diner and just _wait_ to be caught. Any of that smell just a little _hinky_ to you?" The commander's voice rose with a continued incredulousness.

Coulson's lips pursed further, "I agree, sir. We have the two mutants being shipped in for questioning. And I've arranged for a team to stay here, and investigate the incident further. I'll remain with Stark, personally. We're having him sent to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center to undergo a thorough examination."

"Good, I want hourly reports."

"Affirmative, sir."

A familiar sound murmured in the distance, and Coulson looked up to the sky to see a helicopter flying away on the horizon, a good distance away and outside of their perimeter.

* * *

Charles sat behind his desk in serious thought. Erik was starting something, and from the glimpse he'd manage to get of the man's thoughts a few days earlier at the Senate meeting, whatever it was didn't bode well for anyone.

To send Sabretooth to attack Wolverine and Rogue (one of the only clear facets of thought Charles was able to decipher from Erik's mind) meant that one of them undoubtedly factored into his plans. The question was which one, and _why_. What was his old friend planning to do?

Ororo entered through the door, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"Professor, something happened in California. I caught the kids watching this," she began, stepping up to turn on the TV hanging in the corner.

The television flickered on, and Ororo flicked it to the appropriate news channel.

_"__We're standing here off the corner of Vine Street and Santa Monica Boulevard, in Los Angeles," __the news reporter was speaking, "__where it appears that there was a terrorist attack of some sort. As of yet, officials have been unable to respond, but we've been told by several witnesses that there several hostile men were involved. I have with me Mary Sanderson, who witnessed the whole thing," __the reporter shifted to the side, and the camera zoomed in on a middle-aged woman._

_"__Mary, can you tell us what happened here?"_

_The woman began talking excitedly, in a fast rush,__ "Well, I was picking up my dry-cleaning. When I came out onto the sidewalk there was this huge man standing in the middle of the road. Everyone swerved to miss him, o' course, but it caused this huge accident, cars were piling up. It looked real bad. Then, this guy slammed into one car like he was crazy. I'm telling you, he just plowed into it. And he pulled the car around, and a man tumbled out. I remember thinking 'Sweet Jesus' when I got a good look at him. I swear to God, it was Tony Stark!"_

_"__Wait!" __the reporter interrupted in equal excitement__**,**__ "the Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries, and the self-proclaimed Ironman? Are you sure?"_

_"__Yes!" __Mary said, flapping her chin up and down,__ "I'd recognize him anywhere! And he was fighting this guy, he had a gun that he tried to fire at the guy. But the other guy was huge, he was a monster! That's when this other weirdo show—."_

_A woman wearing a formal suit, and sunglasses had walked up to the camera, __"Ma'am. You're a direct witness to the attack?"_

_Mary looked a little wide-eyed,__ "Well, yes. . ."_

_"__I'm going to have to ask you to come with me; we're having everyone come in for questioning."_

_"__Questioning?"_

_The government official turned to the camera, "__This area is currently under investigation, and off limits to the press," __she said flatly. __"Turn of the camera and leave immediately, please."_

_The reporter stepped forward,__ "Wait! Has there been any word on Tony Stark?! Was he injured in the attack?"_

_"__Stop filming please," __the woman said again, gesturing to someone off-screen,__ "These men will escort you from the vicinity."_

_"__But—"_

_And the film clipped out, flashing back to two eager reporters at the main desk._

_They both straightened, one pressing a hand to his ear,__ "Um, and it appears that we've lost contact with our field reporter Cynthia. But just to recap on what is going on. It appears that there was some kind of terrorist attack on the one and only Tony Stark in the streets of Los Angeles. No word on his condition. Or whoever was responsible for the attack. However from the sound of the attacker we could me looking at some sort of monster with super strength."_

_His woman counterpart leaned forward,__ "Tony Stark is not only the infamous Iron Man, but also the owner of the well-known Stark Industries. Just a few days ago, he announced the company's revolutionary new goal to create and provide a sustainable alternative energy for the masses, which they're undoubtedly hoping will be the new edge to buffer against the fall back from cancelling their contract as the United States lead weapon's manufacturer. The first prototype of this energy source is expected to be tested early next year."_

_"__This attack is guaranteed to make an impact on the market for Stark Industries, that's for sure," the male reporter said, before raising his hand to his ear again. "And I'm being told that officials have cordoned off the area, not allowing anyone in or out until it has been fully investigated. Again, no word yet on Tony Stark's condition, or just who these attackers were, but the police are asking that everyone please avoid congesting the area, and that they will be releasing a statement as soon as possible."_

_"__So everyone, be prepared for some heavy detours on their way home from work tonight."_

_"__It would look that way, Cary," the man agreed, "We'll be standing by for more information. You heard it first on—"_

Ororo muted it, and turned back to look at Charles, "What do you think?"

Charles sighed, leaned back in thought, "It is quite disturbing."

"Do you think it was Magneto?" she asked sharply, leaning against the wall and folding her arms.

"The timing of the attack is conspicuous," he admitted, "and the limited description of the attackers leads me to believe that mutants were involved."

"Should we fly out there? Take a look?"

"No," Charles said immediately, having skirted along the edges of the SHIELD agency before and knowing their thoroughness, "the involvement of Anthony Stark raises the attention of several agencies that it would best if the X-men avoided."

He continued after a moment's thought, "And if this was Magneto's handiwork, he is sure to be long gone by now."

Ororo tapped her fingers against her arm at that, a frown growing.

"What are they after, Professor?"

Charles lay his chin the hands clasped in front of him, "Something very dangerous, I fear," he murmured. He tilted his head, as if listening to something, before straightening with a small smile, "It seems that Jean has completed testing our friend Logan. Hopefully those results will tell us something. We have far too many missing pieces in this puzzle."

* * *

He stared into the room that held a sleeping Tony Stark. The doctors had bound his arm, but aside for a weighty concussion, and being generally banged up, nothing else was wrong with the billionaire.

Still, something didn't sit right with Coulson. He couldn't place his finger on it, but his unease was growing. His cell vibrating had him pause in his musings, and he pulled it out quickly, "Coulson here," he said, turning away from the window and nodding to the guard posted as he walked further down the hall.

"Sir. We've found evidence that was another enemy hostile in the area at the time Stark was attacked."

He paused, "More mutants?"

"Yes sir. Several witnesses remember seeing an older man in a cape. We pulled security footage from the outside of a bank in the area, and it corroborates. From what we can make out, he can control metal. And he seems to be directing the other two in some of their attacks."

Control metal. That had a strangely familiar ring to it.

"So they had a leader then. What else?"

"We found the owners of Nick's Cafe in an empty alleyway. Necks broken, they've been dead since morning."

"So they planned on bringing Stark to that diner from the beginning," Coulson mused, the information raising his suspicions.

"It'd appear that way sir. And sir, the press has caught wind of the fact that Stark was involved in the attack. . ."

Coulson's frown grew, and he pinched his nose in frustration, "Yes, I know. I'll handle that from here."

"Further orders, sir," the agent asked.

"Keep looking. I want the third mutant found."

"Understood."

"Thank you. Keep me posted," Coulson said, hanging up. He took a deep breath, glancing back at the stiff guard standing silently by Stark's door. He glanced down at his phone, hitting a number on his speed dial, and not looking forward to sharing the lack of substantial news.

* * *

The light beeping of machines monitoring Tony Stark filled the room. Perhaps a little extreme, but SHIELD was anything if not thorough. And keeping the notoriously difficult businessman asleep would keep him out of trouble.

The figure of the billionaire was still, his breathing slow. His eyes opened, the muddy brown surprisingly clear for the drugs that were supposed to be in his system. It was easy to manipulate his body enough to burn through the limited amount of pain relievers and sleeping aids. He moved his head minutely to glance at his door, and the window that showed the hall.

A lone security guard stood, facing the other direction. The man in the suit that had followed him here, _Agent Coulson, _was busy taking a phone call further down the hall.

* * *

He smiled slightly, and for a split second his brown eyes flashed a golden yellow, before they closed. His smile eased and the façade of him sleeping was made complete once more.

Tony woke up slowly, and painfully. A hazy cloud filled his head, and he struggled through a heavy moment of displacement.

"JARVIS," he moaned immediately, trying to focus, "You there?"

The silence was his answer, and he opened his eyes to face a darkened, dank room.

His head throbbed, and his eyes were having trouble adjusting, turning everything into shadows. He raised his good arm to his head, forcing himself to sit up, "Fuck."

The memories of what happened pre-blackout came back in pieces. Frog man, Sasquatch, Cape guy, the blue woman who turned herself into him. He felt ice sink into his gut.

He let his arm slide down to his chest, pressing it against the familiar rim of the arc reactor. He felt a momentary relief that they hadn't ripped it out immediately, followed by the despairing wish that whoever these people were had just gotten it all over with. God knows, he was tired of landing in caves.

Speaking of caves. He peered around at the out of focus room in distaste.

There was movement, a shuffling he heard coming from a distance away, and a shaking voice called out, "Hello? Are you awake? I, I saw them drag you in."

He forced himself to stand up, swallowing his nausea as he swayed towards the sound, "Yeah," he grated out hollowly, finally reaching a set of bars. From what he could make out, there was no door, no hinges, nothing. Which begged the question of how they'd put him in the cell in the first place.

He blinked several times, still trying to adjust.

He could make out another cell, across a narrow hallway, and a figure standing against the bars. He heard an intake of breath.

"You're, you're Tony Stark, aren't you," the man said in confusion. "They kidnapped you too."

Tony shifted, careful of his throbbing arm, and peered out with squinted eyes, "Who're you?"

"R-robert Kelly, Senator Robert Kelly."

He grunted, trying to brush the cobwebs from his mind, "A senator huh? What do they want with you?"

The senator let out an unsettling sob, nothing worse than hearing grown men cry, Tony thought, "Th-they're mutants! They want to kill me! They want to kill us all!"

A little dramatic, but possibly true, Tony admitted. He wasn't one to judge the hysterics of another man.

_Mutants. Kelly. _It was ringing a few bells, "Oh, wait," Tony said, closing his eyes in thought and snapping his fingers, "You're the MRA guy, aren't you? Right, well in that case, they probably _do_ want to kill you."

"Stark," the man pleaded, "You have to get me out of here."

He rolled his eyes, blinking several times for good measure and turning to examine his cell. Nothing but a bunch of stone, iron bars, a metal toilet (_thank God for that. The Ten Rings had been a little too Stone Age when it came to their plumbing technologies) _and a measly blanket. He couldn't even make out a trap door, or _whatever _it was that they'd used to drop him in here.

Really not much to work with. Glancing out, he noticed that the hallway ended in a steep drop-off, which was just another thing that didn't make much sense, and also guaranteed a no-go on an easy, or even moderately difficult, escape.

"Don't know if you've noticed pal, but I'm not in that great of shape myself," he finally said, feeling unsurprisingly low in spirits.

He looked down at the arm he had been avoiding. The _if I ignore it, it'll go away_ idea wasn't really working and the shock that had shielded him from the pain had long since worn off. On a scale of ten, his arm was at a good nine of _wholly fuck this hurts like hell_. There wasn't much he could think of that had been worse, _his face was held down and he struggled and screamed his lungs filling with water, his chest convulsing as the liquid splashed against the bare wiring keeping him alive, his whole body jerking against his captors ironclad grip, (he shook that thought forcibly away) _but this wasn't much fun. And his fingers were purple, he noticed grumpily, which was never a good sign. He gingerly began pulling up his sleeve. Yep, his arm was a swollen, angry mess, bent into a sickeningly L.

Great, Tony's thoughts continued miserably, if he didn't set it soon, it would forever look like a boomerang. He was sure of it. He'd have to redesign the shape of his suit, get a handicap permit, people would laugh at him as he flew by, it'd be _horrible._

"They, they did something to me, Stark," the senator whimpered again, distracting him from his own bitching, "They have this machine and it did something."

Tony looked up again, "Machine?" he asked suspiciously, faintly recalling the "I'm in need of an energy source" speech the head villain gave earlier and wondering if the two were related. He wasn't much of one for coincidences, and he began piecing together possibilities, "What kind of machine?"

Kelly shook his head despairingly, "I don't know, Magneto said something about God, and then he stood in it, and there was this white, glowing light that covered everything."

That told Tony nothing, except for the head-honcho's name and that he was probably an egomaniac on a little bit of a power-trip. _Magneto. _He wasn't that impressed. . . okay, maybe a little.

"What'd the machine look like?" Tony interrogated, not letting himself get sidetracked for too long.

"It was big, and the top of it was round, and it spun, really fast, faster and faster until the light came."

"Right," Tony muttered. Didn't sound very familiar, but he was willing to blame Kelly's description on that, and he would, gladly, "well, that was a god-awful description full of nothing. Thanks."

He moved back into the depths of his own cell. There was a small window, covered with bars, and when Tony glanced out, he saw nothing but ocean, far, far below. Were they on an _island_?

Things weren't making a lot of sense; his brain was working sluggishly on trying to connect the dots with an annoying amount of malaise. He reached his good hand up, dabbing at his head and pausing when where he tapped shot an overwhelming, painful jolt through his skull. Ah, hello concussion.

"Stark," Kelly called out again, "what're you going to do?"

Unease curled in his stomach, mixing with the familiar nausea, as Kelly's question solidified his situation. He sort of hated the man for it.

Kidnapped. _Again. _And in a cave. _Again. _The only difference was that instead of desert, water surrounded them which would make escaping a hell of a lot more impossible. His arm was shot to hell. And his head was not running on all cylinders like it was supposed to, making it difficult to think; to piece together a desperately needed plan.

A certain despair settled around him, and he felt his panic rising. He didn't want to go through this again.

"-ark? Stark?"

He collapsed heavily back onto the bed pan, a sharp pain shooting through his arm as it banged against his knee. The pain cut through the panic, blessedly, giving him some clarity to think.

Tony needed to hold his cards close to his chest on this one. He _needed_ a plan. This Magneto guy wanted his arc reactor, and instead of just killing him right off the bat, he was keeping Tony alive. Which Tony had to hope wouldn't change in the near future.

And he wasn't going to just let some power hungry maniac use his damn _life force _to tear the world apart if he could help it.

"This is all old news to me," Tony finally gritted out, putting as much confidence into his voice as he could muster for the senator, but mostly for himself, "I'll think of something."

After a long moment of no brilliant ideas, Tony grimaced and shifted on his cold seat. He could still make out the other man's sobbing breaths from way over here. _Geez, this was embarrassing._

"Hey, Kelly," Tony called out, "Tell me more about that machine."

He heard the man shift, and walk towards his cell front, to peer at the seated billionaire.

"Well," the man began shakily, "like I said before, it was big."

"How big?" Tony interrupted.

"Uh, maybe ten feet across, and ten feet wide. But it was tall, at least fifteen feet. And Magneto could stand in the center of it."

"And," he urged.

"Uh, it had these spherical spokes . . . like in the old physical astronomical models, you know? And when Magneto powered it up, they started rotating. Incredibly fast, I couldn't follow them with my eyes."

"Wait, how did Magneto power it up? You said he stood in the center of it?"

"Well yeah. There were these to stands that he gripped. And, and he's a _mutant_. The freak can control metal, he made it all happen. But. . . now that I think about it, he was exhausted at the end of it . . . he nearly collapsed. They had to help him down." the senator continued, his voice growing fainter at the memory.

_Control metal? _

"That lucky bastard," Tony muttered. He could think of so many practical applications already. And it explained how the man had sensed his reactor. The palladium was probably like a beacon to the guy.

"W-what?" Kelly asked, not catching the comment.

Tony shook his head, eying the man, "And you said it emitted some sort of light?" _Definitely radiation of some sort. _Tony felt his dread growing at the idea.

"Yeah," Kelly responded, his face pressed up against the bars of his cell. Tony could make out that the man was perspiring quite a bit, even though it was completely frigid.

"How far did this light reach? What'd it do?" Tony asked even quicker, not liking where his brain was going at all.

"It spread through the whole room, maybe, maybe further. When it passed through me," the man swallowed sagging inwards, "it felt like my body was on fire. And now, I feel, I feel. . ._different."_

"Well," Tony said, thoroughly unnerved. Radiation wasn't something to take lightly, "That could just be the kidnapped-and-held-prisoner-in-a-dark-dank-cave nerves talking. I'm sure it's nothing."

An obvious lie, he heard the man scoff as he recognized it for what it was.

So . . . he was stuck with some mutants who liked playing with the serious kinds of electromagnetic radiation. A fun thought.

Radiation could do a lot of things, Tony knew. Mostly kill you in all sorts of slow and painful ways. But, if done right . . . he'd caught glimpses of theory in the past that had his inner scientist squealing like a five year old girl. DNA alteration, rapid cell growth, the theoretical possibilities were endless.

But how did these mutant terrorist guys get their hands on something that big? And what'd they want to do with it? Tony seriously doubted frying the Senator was at the top of their to-do-list. And his largest concern of course was how did his arc reactor factor into this?

Because everything he was coming up with didn't sound so hot.

Tony leaned back, trying to make light conversation, and comfort the still distressed man, "I've got a personal doctor for like _everything. _When we get you outta here, I'll recommend you one. Well, my PA will. And you'll be fine. Fit as a fiddle."

_If we get out of here._

It wasn't just the chill in the air that caused him to shiver, and he wrapped his good hand around his chest. He'd come up with something. He always did.

* * *

A heavily armored truck was pulling into an underground bunker. Two bound figures, one bound more than the other, were inside, along with five armored SHIELD agents watching their every move.

Agent Hill stood watching them from an alcove, raising a hand to her ear, "Sir, the cargo has arrived."

"Show our guests where they'll be staying for the next few months, Hill," the familiar voice of Fury ground out, "And get a team ready. I want to know why they thought attacking Tony Stark was a good idea."

**To be continued**

**AN: Still going, I'm writing at a pretty constant speed with this one. I'll keep posting as I go, but I'm making sure I keep some insurance. I have two chapters prewritten before I post the next chapter, that's the deal. And will remain so as long as this stuff keeps coming. I'll give you fair warning if I start to slow down.**

**I know I mentioned this before. This is my first time dabbling in Marvel. I'm having trouble getting in touch with the characters. And tying it all together cohesively. Hopefully this story will help me hammer out all the finer details. I have big dreams for the Marvel universe *evil cackling ensues**

**Thanks to everyone who's shown interest! You guys are awesome!**

**Thanks for reading,**

**StrictlySomething**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: NO! **

**I hope that answers all of your questions.**

**Enjoy the chapter. **

**Chapter Three**

Pepper rushed down the hospital hall quickly.

She had learned that Tony had been attacked from a news report on the TV. A news report. No one had even bothered to call her. Nope, they had let her, and the entire Board waiting in the conference room with her, stumble across the fact that her boss has been attacked on the local news station.

That's where the hunt had begun really, after making a thousand pardons to the increasingly grumpy all-star board cast, she'd ran off with only her wits and her PDA to figure the whole mess out.

Tony's phone went straight to voicemail. Never a good sign. Happy's phone had been temporarily disconnected which was even worse.

So with nothing to go on, it had taken her half an hour to locate Happy, bearing a concussion and a broken leg, but otherwise alright at the hospital nearest to the attack. And of course, he had no knowledge of what happened after some giant man had stepped out into the middle of the road in front of their car. No idea what had happened to Tony, or where their boss currently was. If he was even _alive. _

Pepper loathed the fact that the fear coursing through her was becoming all too common.

After calmly arranging Happy's medical leave, and calling in a few favors she was back on track. And still, it took several more hours to work through enough of the bureaucratic tape to talk to someone within the SHIELD agency, who had apparently taken control of the situation, only to have them calmly tell her that Anthony Stark was currently none of her concern.

And finally, finally, after no success on her own at learning Tony's condition or whereabouts, Phil Coulson had given her a call.

At least he'd had the decency to apologize. And after some choice words of her own, and some proper shaming, he'd given Pepper the address of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center and the promise that yes, Tony Stark was alright.

So she'd ended up on the fourth floor of the medical complex, after going through a security check by two officers at the elevator, heading towards the room 412. Apparently, SHIELD had felt the need to clear the whole floor for the billionaire, not willing to take any chances.

"Ms. Potts, am I glad to see you," a familiar voice called out, and she felt herself breaking into a relieved smile.

Turned slightly, she caught sight of her employer walking towards her in a hospital gown.

"Oh thank God, you're all right!" She said, hurrying forward and throwing her arms around him swiftly. Remembering herself, Pepper felt her face flood with color and she stepped back, clearing her throat, "Can't you go anywhere _without _someone trying to kill you?"

He blinked, "Ask that to the people trying to kill me," he said dryly.

"What happened? The news said terrorists attacked you! And Happy said there was some sort of monster man who crashed your car. And SHIELD won't tell me anything, and you didn't call me, and—"

Tony cut her off, tapping her arm, and looking over her shoulder, "Let's walk and talk."

"And what're you doing out of bed?" she continued, eyeing him critically, "Coulson said you had a severe concussion. They're supposed to keep you overnight."

"Not happening, I'm getting out of here," he huffed, turning his head to look past her suspiciously. "The hospital staff won't stop hovering, and every five minutes someone has the urge to poke me in the chest. Or the arm. Or the head. And they tried to feed me lime jello, for Christ's sake. _Lime jello, _Pepper. It's horrible."

He was making light of the situation, but Tony had always had an aversion for hospitals. Pepper had plenty of experience with that irritating trait.

"What about SHIELD? Don't they want to keep you under guard?" she questioned, trying to keep up with his quickening pace, "Shouldn't you stay with them?"

Tony snorted, "_Assholes. _All of them."

She wouldn't argue with that. Pepper wasn't feeling particularly charitable to the agency right now either. And she was definitely filing a law suit against them once this was over. Still—

"Don't tell me you're sneaking out," she sighed, not really surprised.

"I'm not just going to sit here and be prodded, Pepper. I have things I need to do."

"What happened? Who attacked you?" Pepper questioned as she followed.

His eyes were narrowed when he glanced back at her, "Don't know. But I plan to find out as soon as we get out of this place."

Great. She recognized that look. He wasn't just going to let this one go and just let the authorities handle it. Oh no, not Tony Stark, he had to stick his nose into everything personally.

"Tony, are you sure you should leave?" she asked, trying to get a better look at the man. He had just been attacked that morning after all, "We can find another hospital, or I can call Doctor—"

He _looked _okay, but—

"You can drive, right?" Tony asked, stopping, and glancing back at the red-haired PA rushing up behind him.

"Well, of course I can," Pepper huffed, thrown off her train of thought.

"Good, I need a ride," Tony said quickly, "Grab the car, meet me out front."

"Wait, _Tony_!" Pepper called pointlessly, watching as the man darted around the corner. Shaking her head, she turned in the other direction, already reaching into her purse for her keys, "That man."

* * *

Tony Stark melted away, a red-haired nurse taking his place as she walked briskly down the hall. At an empty nurse's station she paused, leaning over the counter and grabbing the receiver of the phone. Quickly, she dialed a familiar number, waiting for a few seconds before a male voice answered.

"It's me," she said simply, checking the hall casually as she listened to a set of coordinates.

"Yes. Heading there now," she reported, hanging up after a brief moment.

She reached the elevators quickly, offering the two men standing guard a smile.

"I'm going downstairs for lunch, you two gentlemen want anything?" she asked politely.

The younger of the two smiled eagerly, but the senior agent shook his head, "No thank you, ma'am. Not while we're on duty."

She leaned forward, brushing a smooth hand against his cheek and watching as his eyes widened, "Pity," she purred.

She stepped around him as the elevator doors opened, swaying inside. She felt the two pairs of eyes keenly. Her smile only grew as the doors closed.

.-

Finishing another call, Coulson stepped back into the hallway from the stairwell. His eyes narrowed. The SHIELD agent he'd stationed outside of Stark's door wasn't in position.

He quickened his pace, his hand settling firmly on his gun holster.

He stepped into Stark's room quickly. A figure still lay there, head turned to face the window, brown hair standing out starkly against the white pillow.

But something was off.

He took a step forward. No facial hair. The chin was wrong. The entire face was wrong.

He reached for the blue sheet covering the man, his hand gripping the fabric tightly before he threw it back, revealing the familiar uniform of a SHIELD agent in the field.

The odd angle of the agent's neck made his condition obvious.

His hand jumped to his radio, "Agent down. Intruder alert. Lock the building down, starting with the fourth floor, no one in or out. I repeat, lock the building down. Stark is AWOL."

* * *

Busy with her phone Pepper jumped when the passenger door opened, and glanced over to see that it was Tony. He slid into the seat quickly, "Let's get out of here, sweetheart. Here, scoot over."

"Wha—"

Tony was climbing over her, "Tony!" she huffed as they both awkwardly shifted in a tangle of limbs, before he was sitting in the driver's seat, and she sat down heavily on the passenger's side with a hand pressed to her hair.

Pepper sighed. Hospital gowns were very revealing in the best of circumstances. Still, she forced herself to remember Tony's own words and agreed, _not the worst I've ever seen_, "I don't think you should drive," she pointed out in vain, "You have a concussion, remember?"

Tony shifted gears, and the car moved seamlessly from its parked position, peeling out of the parking lot. She gripped the chair arm beside her as they turned sharply. Unknowingly to her, a flurry of activity started in the building behind them.

"Turn right, no, right," she said heedlessly, pausing for a moment before continuing, "Tony, your house is in the other direction." She sighed again as he ignored her, "And this is why driving with a concussion is a bad idea."

"No, we're not going home," Tony said adamantly, "We're going to Nevada."

"Nevada?" Pepper asked incredulously, "Tony, we can't go to Nevada!" At his lack of response, she threw up her hands, "What's in Nevada?"

Tony glanced towards her, "SHIELD base. It's where they took the mutants who attacked me."

"The SHIELD base?" Pepper asked, feeling drained and shaking her head. Why did he always do this? Why couldn't he make this easy on her for once? Let her go home, relax, drink a nice glass of wine, crack open a good book. She hadn't read a good book in _ages_. "You need to go home, Tony. It's been a long day. You were attacked, you have a concussion. You need to sleep, not go on some road-trip, or whatever this is!"

"Don't worry, Ms. Potts," he said calmly, giving her a quick, flat smile, "This won't take a second."

* * *

A mutant school, he scoffed. What kind of idea was that? It was trouble waiting to happen, that's what it was. Having so many volatile people all living in the same square footage and then going even further and training them to push their powers. It was pushing buttons that shouldn't be pushed.

They were asking for it. Someone was going to explode one day, and every single one of them would be trapped in the crossfire.

And the place was fancy for a damn school, that was for sure, Wolverine thought moodily. Heavily polished dark wooden décor, fancy Persian rugs, individual lodgings. Not to mention the whole secret life on the bottom floor, the medical lab, the metal hallways, the fancy elevator. These people were loaded.

He shifted on the bed. It was too damn soft, in this damn room that was too damn nice. He didn't like nice. It made him uneasy.

Forty more hours. That's what he'd promised the professor. And then he was out of here. No backward glances, no second thoughts.

And he was already counting down the seconds.

He shifted again, throwing himself onto his side with a huff and shoving his pillow (too damn fluffy) under his head, nestled by his shoulder.

And if this Xavier managed to dig up something from his past? Well then maybe he'd finally have some damn peace. But he seriously doubted that. Peace was the last thing a man like him could ever get. It would probably only bring him more trouble.

Not that it mattered anyway. His dreams, his lack of memories, they were like an itch gnawing away in the back of his mind. He couldn't ignore the opportunity to find out who Wolverine really was. They'd find whatever they found, his curiosity would be sated, and in forty more hours and then he would be out of this freak show.

Maybe after this he'd try South America. Chile was nice this time of year. . . it'd be nice to get somewhere warm.

He was asleep before he knew it. He blamed that damn pillow. The thing melded to his back and neck. So comfortable, it was damn unnatural. He normally didn't sleep well, and with good reason. He didn't much like sleeping anyway.

Nightmares.

_He couldn't move. He was clamped down, drowning in water. Needles, dozens of needles, sticking into his muscles, his bones. Fiery liquid burning burning burning. _

_He opens his mouth screaming, his lungs filling with water._

_Logan._

_Pain. Fiery pain. He was in hell._

_Logan, wake up._

_He can't breathe, can't escape, can't die. _

_Logan._

"Logan."

Logan roared forward, finally breaking free with a throat-tearing yell.

And he was in bed. He blinked. In that damn fancy room in that bald man's Mansion. A girl, _Rogue_, was in front of him, looking at him in shock. He was still gasping in air, trying to think clearly. _What's she doing here?_

His hands burned with a certain familiarity, a certain warmth pressed against one of them. He felt his heart drop as he looked down to her stomach. His claws extended into her shirt, blood already beginning to seep through the torn fabric.

Numbly, he felt them retract. But it was too late. He'd stabbed her. _No._

"Help me. . ." he whispered in horror, watching as Rogue began to choke.

"Somebody _help_!" he yelled, staring at her in fear. She coughed slightly, blood oozing onto her lips.

Reaching out, Rogue slouched forward as she touched his face with a shaking hand. At first he thought it was some last goodbye, but then his mind flashed with her warned sensitive mutant abilities. Only it was too late.

Pain, familiar, yet different, filled him. It was a current, as if he was standing on a live wire, and it paralyzed Wolverine with its strength. A burning energy flared through him, and his muscles spasmed painfully as waves and waves of it washed over him. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't even blink.

Rogue was still in front of him, but she was blurring as his eyes filled with liquid. Logan could only stare at her blurring form as he felt old pains erupt and rip and tear all across his body, until she began to fade away into sparks of red light and a fuzzy darkness.

Even his heart was spasming, not able to beat properly. He could feel his blood slowing, feel his body dying unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

So this is what it felt like. Pain was everywhere.

Shit, taken down by a teenage girl in the end. He shoulda seen this one coming. Probably.

His body was convulsing, his mind going haywire. Rogue's hand was gone but it didn't matter, even if he found it within him to blink one last time.

A beautiful woman, _Jean_, pressed her hands to his head and someone forced a pillow under his hair, and a small ever-coherent part of his head thought that if this really was his time, maybe this wasn't such a bad way to go.

And blissful darkness finally descended, taking the pain with it.

* * *

Tony found himself watching the mist form above his mouth, every time he breathed. Their captors were taking good time in introducing themselves, and so far he had nothing to keep him company except a growing ache in his bones, a massive headache, and his arm, which he tried not to move, or really think about.

He was beginning to feel the cold that the night was bringing, a heavy shivering sinking deep into his chest, his teeth involuntarily clacking together, all of his heat escaping with each breath he made into that swirling, evaporating mist. And all they'd thought to give him was a threadbare blanket, those assholes. If something didn't change soon, he'd probably wind up with a bad case of pneumonia, or hypothermia, or some other nastiness to do with the biting frigidity in the air.

Wherever they were, he'd take a guess that it was on the East coast, somewhere up North. That'd explain the lovely climate. His mutant friends must have quite the budget to afford both the transportation, and whatever hunk of land this actually was. He glanced for a second at the open, barred window that lead to the outside. Maybe skimping out on the energy conserving, whole windows got them their excess funds.

The senator in the room over had wanted to make conversation at first, but as the hours passed even he had become silent. But, considering that Kelly had undergone some extreme radiation, Tony should probably be more proactive in checking up on the man.

He cleared his throat, shifting his head on the stone alcove that made a rather uncomfortable bed to peer across at the barred opening across from him, "Hey, Kelly? You still alive over there?"

He winced, probably not the best way to phrase the question.

He heard the man shift, heard the tapping of shoes on stone as Kelly walked over to his own barred doorway and peer into his cell, "Yeah," he replied shakily, unnecessarily.

The man leaned into the bars, closing his eyes. Tony could make out the sweat on the senator's face from here. And considering the substandardly low temperature around here, that didn't mean anything good.

Sweating was the body's way of regulating its core temperature. Meaning that Senator Kelly's body was going through some excessive overheating right now, or there was something going on in the man's sympathetic nervous system that was making his body _think _it was overheating.

Tony grunted, forcing himself to shift up, into a sitting position, "How do you feel?"

"Uh, a little dizzy. Light-headed," he murmured, his head sinking into the bars.

"Yeah?" Tony asked, leaning forward, "And how's your body feel? Achy? Are there any sharp pains or obvious discomforts? Abdominal pain?"

His knowledge on effects of radiation exposure was pretty limited. Most of what he knew of required a microscope to see, and the rest came from WebMD. Not exactly PhD worthy.

"Uh, I don't know. I just don't feel good."

"Feel like you're growing any extra limbs? Craving sugar?" Tony ticked off casually, "Turning into the Fly?"

"Wait, what?" Kelly asked, looking at him sharply.

He shrugged one-armedly, "Just covering my basis here."

Robert Kelly looked suitably horrified, and he sputtered, "This isn't a joke Stark!"

Tony raised his good arm in defense, "I'll take that as a no? 'Cause I really don't need you to go all Jeff Goldblum on my ass."

"They, they _did _something to me, I could be dying, and you're over there making movie _references_?" Kelly ranted angrily, "What's wrong with you?"

"That's a loaded question. Most agree there's some," he waved an arm vaguely, "father issues floating around, abandonment, some deep-seated problem with authority. Oh, and alcohol. Can't forget the alcohol," he added, before continuing, "But personally, I like to think it is a part of my spark. Comes with the billionaire genius part of my resume."

"You're an asshole!"

He shifted, turning his head away to look back out the window. He could feel the icy ocean's breeze from here, biting into his skin.

"Well, yeah. I kinda am. Not going to lie," Tony said dully, pulling his blanket closer, and wincing as the shifting jarred through his right arm, "but that's something everyone can agree on. You learn to just ignore it, or avoid the rooms I'm in. Whichever's easiest."

He sighed, leaning his head against the stone wall. The coolness, even more cool than the air around him, was refreshing against the number of bumps and bruises and general aching. He shut his eyes, "Look, we know they did something to you. They being mutants with a vendetta that somehow managed to get their hands on what sounds like a pretty hefty radiation-creating machine. So, I kinda feel like I have a responsibility to make sure you're not going to bring about something horrible, like the next zombie apocalypse," Tony glanced back towards the senator, peeking open an eye, ". . .you're not having a craving for human flesh, are you? Particularly mine?"

"N-no! Of course not!"

"Well, that's good. That's a start," he said with false cheer, "But I'll be honest, the kind of radiation you described doesn't do much good. And right now, your symptoms are very _vague. _Which disturbs me."

"You said it was probably nothing!" Kelly cried out.

"Oh that, yeah," Tony winced, "That was a lie, trying to make you feel better, and all that. You're probably screwed."

Kelly choked out a sob.

The internal voice of Pepper scolded him for making a senator cry. But in all of his discomfort, he was finding it difficult to feel guilty. Concussions, hypothermia, broken limbs, being trapped in a _fucking _cave, it all made him a little cranky. And less inhibited by the social standards of conversation.

He glanced at the senator momentarily and instantly froze at what he saw.

"Holy shit! Kelly, don't move!" Tony jumped up, stumbling forward towards the entrance of his own cell, his mind spinning to a halt. Kelly's face was beginning to press, no, _squeeze_ in between the bars.

Kelly realized what was going on a few seconds later, and cried out as he yanked himself away from the bars and stumbled back, "W-what the hell's happening to me!"

Tony didn't respond, mentally checking the pretty definite symptom_. How could the man's skull compress like that? How was his brain not hemorrhaging right now? _He gaped through his own cell's bars, resting his head on the cold metal as his thoughts picked up speed.

The machine. The radiation, _visible _radiation. The fact that they'd both been kidnapped by a _mutant_ group. Kelly's newfound _stretchiness. _It was all clicking into place. And Tony felt a large amount of awe at as the whole came together. Surely, they had made a _mutant-_making machine. The radiation physical _altered _a person's genetic code, manufacturing the mutant x-gene.

They'd taken the senator who'd proposed the Mutant Registration Act, someone who _loathed _mutants, and made him into one.

He laughed at the irony. That was just, priceless. And brilliant.

A voice reminded the _slightly_ _mad_ scientist part of him (unsurprisingly in Pepper's voice, _again._) that turning Senators into mutants was wrong, and should not to be laughed at (That woman ruined all of his fun sometimes).

He blamed the slightly hysterical laughter on the obvious head trauma and the growing dehydration.

It took a moment for the full impact of their situation hit him once more. Kidnapped. In a cave. With mutants that had mutant-mutation technology. And now they had a new and improved arc reactor in their grasp that could undoubtedly amplify the mutant-mutation machine's power a hundred-fold.

His chuckling stopped abruptly.

Tony forced his focus back to Senator man was hyperventilating, his head clutched in his arms. _Well. _Tony couldn't really blame the man.

_Okay, step one, get the man to listen to me._

Tony swallowed, "Kelly, you need to calm down."

No response. Tony's laughter probably hadn't helped him any.

He crouched down, reaching between the bars with his good hand to try to close the distance, "Kelly. . . Robert, listen to me."

_Dear Lord, the man was in rocking in the fetal position. _

He rolled his eyes, "Pull yourself together! You want to get out of this, right? Well, I hate to break it to you, but _this_ is not the way to do it."

That pulled Kelly out of his funk. Or maybe he'd just finally found his dignity. Honestly, it was like the man had never been kidnapped, mutated, and thrown into a cave before.

Kelly looked up, and Tony tried not to look too exasperated. And keep his meaner thoughts to himself. This guy was now Tony's ticket out of here.

"We can _use _this," Tony insisted, gesturing at the senator with his hand. "Think about it, Robert. Whatever it is that they did to you," the man flinched, "if your whole body can do that, then you can so _slide _through cell bars right now. How is that _not _the best thing that could have possibly happened to us?"

"I'm. . ." the man broke out, "They turned me into one of _them_."

"So you're a mutant," Tony said, watching the man flinch heavily again, "So what. That's a bit better than my theories right?"

It would've been a little awkward if the man _had_ gained fly-like mutant powers. He shuddered imagining what would have happened then. Jeff Goldblum, indeed.

"They're monsters!"

Tony sighed. Nothing like a bigot turned hypocrite. Not of his own accord, admittedly. But still.

"Look, Kelly, be more flexible here," _Ha ha . . . flexible, _Tony thought humorously, his face twitching. "If we want to get out of this mess, I'm going to need you to focus."

The senator shook his head, "No, no I can't do this." He stumbled to his feet, and Tony didn't like the desperate look in the man's eyes as he turned towards his window.

_Step Two, don't let the man jump out the window!_

"No, no this way! Kelly," Tony called out, recognizing the all-encompassing emotion that had filled the man, "Kelly!"

The senator glanced back at him, a raging terror in his eyes, "I— I need to get out of here!" And he was past Tony's line of sight, to where Tony had no doubt a window identical to his own stood.

Tony stood up again, stretching out in vain, "No! That's a bad idea, bad idea! C'mon think buddy, we're perched on a sheer cliff. The water's like, fifty feet down!" Tony tried reasoning, "Not the way we want to go!"

Silence. And why was he using the term _we _anyway?

He raced to his own window, attempting to peer around, "Kelly!"

"Damn it!"

He turned back to the room, looking for anything that might help him.

Nothing.

What good was he anyway? _Damn it!_

He turned back to the window, "Kelly!"

This time he caught a glimpse of something, the back of a foot, and he pressed his face further against the bars, "Kelly, don't do this," he pleaded, "You don't want to do this."

The man must've been able to slide through the bars after all. And still, that ever present part of Tony's mind was in awe at the remarkable transformation the machine had caused. _Skeletal structure somehow not visibly compromised by the apparent flexibility. _Already he was calibrating the observable results with the theoretical research he'd read long ago. _Amazing. _Stop it, just stop it, he scolded himself.

He could just make out the senator's figure, as he pressed himself against the ragged cliff on a small foothold.

"Kelly!"

He heard a familiar choked sob, carried by the wind.

Tony slid his left hand through the bars, reaching in the senator's direction. The man was too far away, he knew that.

"I, I don't want to die," he heard the man sob.

"You won't," Tony shook his head, "You won't. Just, just come over here. Take my hand! I'll- I'll get us out of this mess. And when we get out of here, I'll have the best scientists I know have a look at you. We can fix this."

"You're lying!"

No shit he was lying. What else was he supposed to do?

"You won't know if you don't trust me, Kelly. Just- just take my hand. I promise—"

The distraught man shook his head, "I don't want to be like them. I don't want to—"

His foot slipped, and he let out a surprised shout, frantically grappling for something to hold onto with his hands to no avail.

Tony threw himself against the bars forcibly, "Kelly!"

He watched the man fall, with a terrified scream. The drop was marked with a definite splash. Turning away from the window, Tony slid down the wall to settle on the floor.

A familiar rancid emotion sank into his gut, clawing up his throat. Tony grit his teeth, and beat his head against the wall in frustration, ignoring the spark of flaring red that it cast momentarily across his vision.

He probably could have handled that better.

**To be continued.**

**AN: If you're wondering how Mystique is handling Tony's role . . . I imagine she's been doing this sneaky body-snatchers thing for a while now, and she knows to do her research. That's my explanation. And I'm sticking to it. **

**This was all written at the speed of light, which is not only frightening, but a little mind-numbing. And I'm having trouble taking a step back and seeing this from an outside perspective. So, here's to hoping everything clicks alright.**

**Warning to all: I have an ethnographic term paper that I'll be working on 'till mid December. I'm doing research for it all of the next two weeks and it will undoubtedly be insanely time consuming. That along with the normal finals, etc, and well, I think you get the picture. I'm sure my normal procrastination fits in there somewhere, so this is just the general warning. **

**Thanks for reading,**

**StrictlySomething**

**P.S. Every alert, favorite, and review made me explode into awkward spontaneous dance and song. My roommates were less than pleased. I however, was more than pleased. **


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